


diet mountain dew red

by atlas_oulast



Series: Stagepuppies Fics [3]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - No Squip, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Fluff & Angst, Norse Mythology Elements, Valkyries, Vampires, norse mythology & folklore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_oulast/pseuds/atlas_oulast
Summary: Christine’s on cloud nine. She got a leading role in a school play, not long after moving to said school, and while the drama program is... diminished of participants, to say the least, it’s still freaking awesome.And then, the odd and unexpected begins occurring.Fellow cast members start coughing up black dust, and turning up at the nearest Wawa at 3 AM with no recollection of how they got there.And what about the pale girl playing her love interest who refuses to take off her hat or go without an umbrella outside? Or the strange dreams Christine’s having?Coming to Middleborough High School this fall, the student-written play about the odd events to happen to the fictional Edna Sherman begins to mirror the real life occurrences of the drama students.Updates every Thursday





	1. act one

**Author's Note:**

> so i told myself ‘i am Not posting this one without at least Several prewritten chapters so that i actually update occasionally’ and then little old dev signed themself up for 5 ten thousand word days this months, so... the day this is posted, chapters 3-8 were written, which is cool, at least i think. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy my weird little stagepuppies thingamadoodle!

Christine Canigula had only just moved to Pleasant Creek, New Jersey, and she was now starting at Middleborough High School, exactly three days after driving down. 

She’d been born and raised in Hendersonville, Maine, and then her mom had gotten a job opportunity in Pleasant Creek, her boyfriend also got a job there and wanted to move in with her, and then the next thing she knew, Christine was riding down to New Jersey in the passenger seat of the U-Haul, earbuds in and jacket on, because it didn’t have any heating.

It’s not like Christine cared that much. She didn’t have any friends in Hendersonville, and yeah, it was a little disappointing to not be able to do Tarzan with the school’s drama program (auditions were being held the Saturday after the Friday that she left town) but the new school had a drama program, she was told, so she packed up her childhood home and suddenly, Hendersonville was behind her and all that was ahead of her was Interstate 95.

Oh, and her new life in Pleasant Creek. And Boston, and New York, and probably some other interstates.

She wasn’t even fully unpacked yet, far from it, but she was on her way to the bus stop, coffee in hand in her thermos, backpack squarely on her back, green dress securely on her body.

Christine walked in, and it was immediately overwhelming. So many people milling around, so many smells and pairs of jeans and voices. 

Her school back in Hendersonville was fairly close to absolutely nothing but the Canadian border, and only had about two hundred students. And this school... had two thousand.

Yeah, she’d been warned about how many people would be here, but Jesus, that hadn’t prepared her at all.

But Christine took a deep breath, gathered herself up, and walked into the fray, squeezing by students walking to and fro, and finding her locker.

She grabbed the post it note out of the top pocket of her backpack for the combination on the lock. Christine had tried to memorise it, but she’d only gotten it yesterday, so sue her for shoving it into her backpack.

And then, of course, some blonde girl tripped over something, and rammed right into her, blowing away the post it note with the combination into god only knows where in the hall.

Both girls yelped, and Christine was thrown back onto her butt, almost getting stepped on by some kid in a hoodie.

”Sorry, sorry,” the blonde girl said, as soon as she’d regained her bearings. “Here, lemme help you up.” 

And that’s when Christine got a good look at her.

Floaty blonde hair, yeah, but also a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, emerald green eyes, a gentle, sheepish smile with soft pink lips, and holy crap she was beautiful.

Christine gently put her hand in that of the girl’s, and holy cow she was holding her hand, and then Mrs. Adorable had pulled her up and let go and the moment was over, and Christine’s face was hot.

”Are you okay?” The girl tilted her head slightly, unconsciously, and Christine decided she could watch her do that for hours.

”Yeah, I’m fine- oh, shoot, the combination-“

Christine looked frantically around, not seeing the bright pink piece of paper anywhere.

”What’re you looking for?”

”I had a post it note, with the combination to the lock on it..”

”Oh, no problem, look.” The girl turned over the lock, and on the back was a little sticker with the combination on it.

”It’s the first day of school, those are always on the back. Just tear it off and write it down when you’ve got your stuff in.”

Christine felt stupid and somewhat embarrassed, and yep, she was blushing again. “Oh, oh, thanks.”

”No problem.” Holy ninja cows she was smiling, a small, sweet little smile, and holy cowplant she was adorable.

And then she was gone, and Christine actually had to deposit her stuff into the locker, pull off the sticker (it tore and she had to scrape off part of it, and she wasn’t entirely sure if the third number was a seven or a one) write down the combination on her hand, and actually find her classroom.

Score two for the school, because when she finally collapsed into a desk and the class started, the teacher began taking role call.

In Spanish.

Christine raised her hand rather than wait until she wasn’t called in role call.

“ _Espera tu turno, por favor.”_

“This isn’t the English class, is it?”

_“Bueno, ¿un profesor de inglés estaría hablando español?”_

Christine didn’t know exactly what the teacher had said, but she picked out a few words. Profesor, that probably meant teacher, English, Spanish... oh. That’s why people were laughing.

She only knew one phrase in Spanish, and it was probably time to break it out.

” _No_ _hablo_ _español_.”

”No kidding,” the teacher said, looking annoyed. “Would someone volunteer to take her to her class? She’s clearly new.”

Christine felt a little embarrassed, and more embarrassed when nobody raised their hand.

”It’s okay, I’ll find it myself-“

”Mr. Heere, please escort her to her class.”

And that’s when Christine was a blushy, staring mess, for the second time in a day. Second time in an hour.

It was a tall, lanky boy, with fluffy brown hair, his skin also peppered with freckles, but not nearly as many as the blonde girl, and his were more congregated to one spot on the part of his cheeks right next to his nose.

His eyes were blue, a dark-ish blue, bright and a little sad, and Christine wanted to hug him, hold his hand, let her lips meet his-

No. Nope. First the blonde girl, and now him? Crushes were not what she needed, not at all, and especially not two of them.

Anyway, the boy led her out into the hall, and got a safe distance away from the classroom before speaking.

”Sorry, Mrs. Hernandez is a little uptight. Which English class are you taking?”

”Honours English.”

”Oh, I have that after lunch. Here, I’ll-“ He began to lead her again, and lapses into a somewhat awkward silence.

”What’s your name?” Christine asked, a little hesitantly.

”Jeremy Heere. What about you?”

”Christine, Christine Canigula.”

He walked alongisde her, Christine noticed the way he seemed to be looking at her. Not creepily, just... a little in wonderment? It was cute.

”Well, welcome to Middleborough High. Oh, crap, that sounded cheesy, sorry-“

”Thanks. There’s a lot more people here than there were at my old school, I’m experiencing a bit of culture shock, I guess.”

Jeremy looked slightly relieved that she’d interrupted. “Where are you from?”

”Hendersonville, Maine. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

”I don’t think I have.”

”All you need to know is that it’s cold, twenty minutes from the border, and half the kids speak fluent French, which is why I’m not taking Spanish.”

”Oh, cool.”

Christine didn’t want to let them go into silence again, she liked listening to Jeremy talk. Nothing special, he just had a nice voice.

”Anything I should know about the English teacher?”

”Oh, Mr. Reyes? He’s got a microwave in his classroom and it always smells like Hot Pockets. He’s always eating Hot Pockets, he has a mini fridge with Hot Pockets, and everyone either can’t stand it or eventually forgets about the smell. He’s also in charge of the drama program, and even if you didn’t know, you would’ve been able to tell.”

Christine giggled. “Got it.”

”Oh, it’s right over here,” Jeremy said, pointing out the slightly open door about thirty feet away. “Mr. Reyes is gonna give you a whole speech because you’re new, just smile and nod, you’ll be fine. He’s not gonna write you up for being late, just give you some dirty looks until he realises you’re new.”

”Cool. Thanks, sorry I interrupted class.”

“I don’t mind getting ten minutes away from Mrs. Hernandez.”

”See you around, okay?” 

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, see you.” His voice went up a little bit on those words, and it was kinda cute, and then Christine gently pushed the classroom door the rest of the way open.

The teacher, who was big, hairy, wearing plaid, and going on a tangent about something or other, indeed gave Christine a dirty look. “Well, here she is, world, Miss Gypsy Rose Lee. Extremely late.”

Christine did a little curtsy, and decided to roll with it. “Let me entertain you, let me make you smile,” she answered quietly, a little afraid of the reception her little joke would get.

She heard a little giggle, and when she glanced over, it was the blonde girl. Oh, shoot, she was cute when she was giggling. But was she laughing at Christine or with Christine? It was a very important distinction, and Christine didn’t know the answer.

”Well, it seems we have someone familiar with the Broadway classic Gypsy. Perhaps, then, you’d be interested in the drama club,” Mr. Reyes said. 

“Oh, god no,” a boy in the back moaned, and a few other students groaned.

”The drama program welcomes new participants with open arms. Auditions for the fall production are this Friday, at four fifteen PM, in the auditorium. The play is The Odd Tales of Dana Sherman, written by the exiting Honours English class last year, finished right before summer break began. We are severely lacking in participants, and participating not only provides you with one of two required extracurriculars, it also accounts for up to twenty percent in a grade raise.”

”Mr. Reyes, let her sit down and let’s actually learn some shit, please,” a girl with a curly red ponytail whined. 

“Ah, yes... what is your name, Miss?”

”Christine Canigula.”

”Wonderful, you’ll be sitting smack in the middle, right next to Reagan Holland, who is _not_ paying attention.”

A girl with a short, straight bob of brunette hair looked up. “Oh, be quiet, you’re on your drama club tangent.”

”Miss Holland, behave. Miss Christine, please sit down next to her.”

Christine shuffled over awkwardly, and plopped down next to Reagan.

”He’s a bit boring, but he’ll be munching down on a Hot Pocket pretty soon, and you can do whatever during that,” Reagan whispered.

”Miss Holland, I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.”

* * *

It wasn’t until after Chem, on her way to lunch, that anything else of note happened. She’d found her classrooms, her teachers had been... teachers... and she’d learned some shit.

But it was when she was on her way to the cafeteria that she saw a big, bright pink poster board with the following words:

~~~~MIDDLEBOROUGH HIGH PRESENTS~~~~

THE ODD TALES OF DANA SHERMAN

AUDITIONS AT FOUR THIRTY, FIDAY, SEPTEMBER THIRD, IN TE AUDITORIUM

PREPARE A SHORT MONOLOGUE AND A DANCE

Beneath that were the lines where names were to be written. Nobody she knew was on the list (understandable, she’d just moved here, the only people in this school she knew by name were Mr. Reyes, a few other teachers, and Jeremy) and there were many empty lines.

So Christine had no hesitation in picking up the pen hanging from a chain taped to the poster board and scribbling down her name.

 


	2. act two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine gets a role, and everything seems great.

The days began blending together and Christine got into a routine, memorised her locker combination, and went to French class, not Spanish 2 with Mrs. Hernandez.

She saw the pretty blonde girl in English, and they also shared Microeconomics as their last class of the day.

As for Jeremy, they didn’t share any classes, unfortunately, but she did pass him in the hall a few times a day, and always made sure to wave at him.

She hadn’t met anyone else of note, didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunch, but it was okay, if she got into the school play surely she’d make friends.

Yeah, it hadn’t made her any friends at her old school, but that was Hendersonville, the tiny town of 500 people where all the drama students were popular kids. Here, Christine suspected that the opposite was true.

The school day on Friday came and went, and instead of getting on her normal bus, she headed for the auditorium.

Only a few students were here, a few girls, a couple boys, one of whom was in her French class, and... 

And there was blonde girl. Looking right at her.

Sue Christine if you wanted to, she wasn’t passing up a chance to stare at Blondie semi-adorably. She would, however, pass up the odd look Blonde Girl Central gave her, and the panic of  _oh shoot now she hates me now she’ll never speak to me_ rushing in like the tide.

And then Yellow Hair came up to her.

”Decided to listen to Reyes and audition, huh?” Were Goldilocks’ cheeks pink, or was that just Christine’s imagination... or just blush?

”Yeah. I did drama at my old school, and I wanted to make some friends here.” Oh, that sounded awful. She wasn’t sure what the girl with flaxen hair would think of that, but it still sounded like a horrible sentence. Thanks, brain.

”Well, I’m Brooke Lohst. Hopefully we can be friends.”

Well, no more nicknames. But Brooke was a nice name. It fit her.

”Nice to meet you. I’m Christine Canigula?” Was that overly polite? Did Brooke already know her name.

”Nice too meet you, too.” Brooke smiled and it was big and beautiful and oh my god why were there so many adorable people at this school?!

”Quiet in the auditorium, let the auditions commence!” That was Mr. Reyes.

Brooke sat next to her, legs draped over an arm of the carpeted red chair, head propped up on her elbow on the other arm of the chair, the one nearest to Christine. 

Christine stiffened and cautiously moved as far away from Brooke’s head as she could, without Brooke figuring it out and things getting awkward. Still, there were maybe three inches between her shoulder and Brooke’s head, and if that wasn’t fucking unfair Christine didn’t know what was.

People were being called alphabetically by their last names, so Christine was the second person, after the boy in her French class, Garrett Albright.

She had a monologue from Macbeth prepared, all memorised and ready, and standing there, on that stage, even with all the lights on and maybe twelve people watching her, Christine felt right at home, acting out the scene like the world was watching and yet nobody at all was watching. It felt like homecoming, like she was at her equilibrium.

And then, all too soon, she had to go back to sitting squished against one end of her chair.

Lohst (which was apparently spelled with an H) was fairly far down the list, but there also still weren’t many people, so Brooke’s audition came up pretty quickly, and y’know? Brooke was awesome. She had a monologue from a play Christine had never heard of, but she carried herself well, was convincing, and oh god Christine could watch her for days.

But before that was the surprise of the afternoon: Jeremy!

And it was really right before Brooke’s audition; apparently there were no students with I, J, or K last names, or different H last names.

He was a bit more unsure of himself, and stiff at the beginning, but he loosened up and seemed pretty confident in himself by the end, and Christine desperately hoped he’d get in.

On the other hand, holy ninja cows, if both of the cutest people ever got into this play... what was she gonna do? How would she ever focus?

~~~~MIDDLEBOROUGH HIGH PRESENTS~~~~~~

THE ODD TALES OF DANA SHERMAN 

CAST LIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why the nineteen exclamation points, Christine didn’t know.

IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE IN SCRIPT

GEORGIE THOMPSON: Garrett Albright

NATALIE IONA HERNANDEZ: Brooke Lohst

YOLANDA THE REAPER: Una Tyler

DONNA SHERMAN: Daniella Simpson

LUCAS SHERMAN: Jeremy Heere

DANA SHERMAN: Christine Canigula

ZOMBIE QUEEN: Gigi Ziegel

ENSEMBLE: Kira Frazier, Elle Reagan, Edgar Papadakis, Pete Black, Alex Carter, Oliver Morgan, Xerxes Quentin

Well, that was... fantastic! She had the title role! And they’d been over some of the script in auditions, Dana Sherman was definitely the lead character, and it wasn’t just some trick title where it was really about Dana’s brother, Lucas. She had the lead role! She had the lead role!

The downside (or another upside?) was that Lucas was being played by Jeremy, and he was in many of Dana’s scenes. And Natalie Iona Hernandez? Was Dana’s love interest. And she was being played by Brooke.

Was this some cruel trick of the universe? Or was it an awesome thing that the universe did for her?

“Oh, I see I’ll be playing opposite you,” said a voice. A very recognisable, somewhat high pitched voice. “Congratulations on that big role!”

There was Brooke. And finally, Christine really took in what she was wearing, and not just her face.

She was wearing that same big, floppy black hat. But today, it had a little black veil in front, obscuring her face.

She was wearing a bright knit yellow sweater, that ran to her ankles, tied in front with a matching belt, jeans, and a white t-shirt with the Pennsylvania State logo. And Converse. Taking note of those pink converse was very important.

Her backpack was dark red, and in the water bottle pocket, was that... an umbrella? It was sunny outside today. Oh well, probably just in case.

She was still beautiful.

“Congrats on Natalie!” Christine responded finally. Enough time had passed that she internally cringed, had it been too long for a response to not be awkward?

But Brooke still smiled from behind the veil. “Thanks. She’s my favourite. Her death scene is awesome.”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, and Jeremy Heere as Lucas! Was he the tall brunette guy at auditions?”

“Yeah.” Christine smiled to herself, allowing herself a simple, totally platonic thought of the beautiful boy.

“That’s great! We’ll be the perfect trio!”

“Yeah!”

Oh god, was that too many yeah’s?

Nah, Brooke was grinning. And then she took a look at the clock on the wall next to the cast list, and went running down the hall.

Two minutes until next period.

 _Shoot_.

* * *

 

Christine ran into the house as she usually did, undoing the latch on the screen door, taking the key from the second pocket of her backpack, unlocking it with the special jiggle and firm push, and then turning the knob while kicking the door open, shitting it carefully but quickly behind her before running into the sea of boxes.

“Christine, is that you?” That was Leah, but she sounded far away and muffled.

“No, it’s Juliet.”

“C’mere, Juliet, or I’m gonna drop this box.”

Christine ran to and fro between towers of boxes, until she found Leah, balancing a big box labelled ‘UTENSILS’ on one knee and her left arm, her right arm holding her mother’s favourite lamp, a five foot tall one, with a crystal lampshade, and saving it from falling over. Her unoccupied leg was holding her up on the stepstool.

Christine quickly grabbed the box of ‘utensils’, nearly dropping it herself, having not expected the weight.

“Those are the dishes, I figured out,” Leah said laughingly, righting the lamp and stepping down onto the carpet. “You can put ‘em on the kitchen counter.”

Christine did just that, after pushing away Renee’s tablet that was sitting smack in the middle of the only clear space large enough for the box. “Renee, get your iPad off the counter!”

Down came Renee, in shorts and a t-shirt, despite it being entirely too cold out for that. She grabbed the iPad, and bounded back upstairs.

“Come help us, Renee!” Leah called. “I’m getting to the bottom of Box Tower Twenty-Two.”

“I’ll help when you’re at twenty!” Renee called back down.

“Christine?”

“Coming, coming,” Christine said, hanging her backpack and jacket up on the hook in the foyer, before trekking back to Leah in the wilderness of boxes.

“I was thinking, get some trees in here, and see how long it takes Mom and Mark to figure it out,” Christine joked.

Leah laughed and toted another box from the stack the box of dishes had been on down the stepstool. “Ooh, I think these are my books.”

Christine grabbed the box cutter and broke the tape, lifted the flaps, and found board games.

“Darn. Well, it’s gotta be in this stack someplace,” Leah said, going back up the stepstool for another box.

“What do I do with these?”

“They go in the new TV stand. Oh, this one’s it!” Leah set down the box and ripped it open, and this one contained her books, if you could call her zombie cat novels ‘books.’

“The TV stand isn’t up yet. Neither is the TV.”

“Oh, well, put it by the couch, then.”

“The couch is in the kitchen.”

“Right. Ah... put it over by the wall between those windows, I think that’s where the TV is going.”

Christine and Leah eventually dealt with every box in that stack, two more stacks after that, and were on a third when the front door opened again.

“We’re ho-ome!” Christine’s mom called.

Christine and Leah exchanged a mischievous look, and didn’t go and greet them.

“Oh, crap, are you girls buried under boxes somewhere?” Now her mother sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m not!” Renee called down.

“Where are your sisters, Renee?” Mark called back up.

“Who knows?”

Christine heard her mother’s heels go onto the carpet, and then heard her toss them off. “Christine? Leah?”

Leah waited until her mother had walked by them, now obscured by some boxes and a houseplant, before creeping up behind her and tapping her on the shoulder.

Her mom jumped and turned around, startled. “Goodness, Leah, you scared me half to death. Now, where’s Christine?”

“Boo!”

Her mom jumped again, and so did Mark, this time. “Jesus, girls. Am I going to find Pennywise down over by Box Tower Fourteen?”

“Nah.”

“Oh well. Pizza for dinner? Oh, Markie, dear, where’d I put my heels?”

“Over there.” Mark did not point or otherwise indicate where ‘over there’ was.

“Well, that’s so helpful of you, dear.” She carefully picked her way down the path they’d taken here, and found her heels discarded near Box Tower Nine. “Girls, I’ve gotta make a call, be quiet down here.”

“We found your dishes, we can have pizza on Fiestaware instead of paper plates today,” Christine said.

“Wonderful.” She ran upstairs, heels in hand, and shut the master bedroom door behind her.

That was Mrs. Canigula for you.

“Hey, Mark, where are the pieces to the new TV stand?”

 

* * *

 

Christine ran up into the auditorium the next day after school, barely making it in before four thirty.

“Cutting it close today, Miss Canigula,” Mr. Reyes sniped.

“Sorry, class ran long.”

“Why don’t you take out your script and we can begin our read-through?”

Christine found a chair in the circle of chairs, fished her copy of the script out of her backpack before shoving it under the seat.

Brooke flashed her a sympathetic look, opened up her script, and looked expectantly at Garrett, who began to read.

“Viewer, beware, for today we delve into the strange, unorthodox, odd, and mysterious tales surrounding the late Dana Sherman. Yes, unfortunately, she has passed away, so have all her relatives, so our tale of her tales has been pieced together by eyewitness accounts and the stories your scary old grandmother tells at night over cold hot chocolate. My name is Georgie Thompson, allow me to introduce you to our cast of characters.”

Dana didn’t come in until the last bit of the first scene, so Christine sat, fidgeting with her bracket, as she watched everyone read.

“And of course, we have Dana Sherman, the somewhat zany, forty or sixty year old middle upper younger aged woman, who lived in Denver with three cats, an army of moths to protect her should the radiator explode, and an utmost fear of lotion and other beauty products.” Garrett read.

“Yes, it is I, Dana. I passed away under mysterious circumstances a few years or months ago, and as I lie in my grave contemplating, I believe I was slain by the Zombie Queen of my mind.” Christine said finally.

“Yes, it is now we must meet the Zombie Queen, the only one presently not in a grave who should be in a grave.” Garrett cointinued onward.

The play was clearly written by high schoolers, but a lot of it was cleverly written and genuinely funny, as they read through things that Dana either ‘imagined, experienced, or ate; who knows which one applies to each event, or if not more than one apply?’

Dana was wacky and a little close-minded, but Christine felt herself easily slipping into the character.

She felt great.

And for that moment, Christune was blissfully unaware of what was coming.


	3. act three

They were three rehearsals in, and Christine now had figured out exactly what happened in each.

They’d do a scene, Mr. Reyes would take a Hot Pocket break, rinse and repeat, and occasionally instead of it being a scene, they’d practice some choreography. Rinse and repeat that whole cycle for two hours and that was play rehearsal.

And Christine loved every bit of it.

During one Hot Pocket break, Christine was sitting off to the side, on the edge of the stage, trying to memorise her lines in a section of scene four, when she heard a screech and the loud thump of a body hitting the ground.

She snapped her head up to the source of the sound, and she saw Brooke onstage, standing over Xerxes, who was flat on his back and gasping in pain, whilst Brooke was putting her hat back on.

“I need this hat,” Brooke said calmly.

“It’s still against dress code!” Xerxes protested, voice strained with pain. “I’m going to go to the principal about this!” 

“Go right ahead, Xerxes.” Brooke calmly walked down the side steps of the stage and plopped down next to Christine. “Ugh, boys.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Kept whining about how my hat isn’t allowed with the dress code, then tried to grab it. I gave him a piece of my mind.” 

Christine lapsed into silence. Xerxes was at least three hundred pounds, while Brooke was almost painfully skinny. How the heck had she managed to shove him ovet? Adrenaline, maybe.

“But why don’t you take off the hat? We’re inside.” 

“I need it,” Brooke said simply.

Christine let the subject go. “Will you go over scene six with me?” 

“Oh, sure,” Brooke said, standing back up on the stage.

They went through the scene just fine, but Christine was still left wondering about a lot of things.

Mr. Reyes came back eventually, and they went over the Zombie Queen attack scene, and Xerxes seemed to be fine, even after he had to be shoved onto the stage floor again by Yolanda the Reaper. At least this time, it wasn’t over a hat.

After rehearsal, Christine was packing up her things to leave, when Xerxes started coughing.

She didn’t think much of it, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and heading out.

Next play rehearsal, though, Xerxes couldn’t _stop_ coughing. Gigi kept hitting him on the back, thinking he was choking, and started to do the Heimlich before Xerxes angrily told her to stop, it wasn’t helping. 

Brooke was perched on the edge of the stage, watching the scene with an amused smile. She was wearing that hat again, a big black sweater, a ruffly black skirt, pink tights, and Mary Janes. On her finger was that same gold ring with the red stone, and her lips were innocently pink.

Christine had never been more confused in her entire freaking life.

And when she went over to Xerxes to see if she could help, she got a nice faceful of black powder coughed onto her.

 “Xerxes, what then heck?!” Christine spluttered, fanning her face. “What’s going on?”

He coughed into his hand again, and a few wisps of more black powder escaped. “Sorry, Christine. I-“ Cough. “Keep-“ Cough. “Coughing up-“ Cough. Cough. Cough. “Black crap.” Cough.

“You need to see the nurse. Holy crap, here, I’ll help you-“ 

“I went to the doctor yesterday, I think this is just because of whatever meds I got put on.”

“I don’t think any kind of meds should be doing that. Ever.” 

“Relax, I’ll-“ cough. “Be fine.” 

That rehearsal was strained, with Xerxes not being able to say a single line without letting out a series of coughs, coughing up more black dust. Mr. Reyes sent him to the water fountain time after time, but he still came back coughing. Christine had to cover her ears during one scene that she wasn’t in, the coughing was driving her absolutely nuts.

And then the next day, Gigi was coughing up black dust, too. Gigi, the Zombie Queen, no longer acted high, proud, and mighty, but now was coughing constantly, just like Xerxes.

And it was unspeakably annoying. Especially because Gigi was coughing up black stuff _without_ having gone to the doctor, so what was Xerxes’ talking about? 

The ‘black plauge’ as Brooke jokingly coined it (Brooke, who giggled into her hand as people coughed) spread through the cast quickly once it’d begun, and Gigi even passed out at one point. From hyperventilation or the black stuff, Christine didn’t know. 

Jeremy caught it soon enough, and he looked pitiful, suppressing his coughs and ending up with huge puffs of black dust coming out, looking positively miserable. 

Christine had the urge to randomly hug him, and you know what? She did it, one day, while poor Gigi and Annie were trying to rehearse a 30-second dance they had in one scene.

Jeremy jumped, and looked at her, startled, coughing once, twice, into his sleeve. Then, he looked... scared? Grateful? Like he’d never been touched by a girl before? Probably the last one. Anyway, it was endearing. 

“You looked like you needed a hug,” Christine said gently, and Jeremy nodded slowly. “T-thanks.” Oh boy, his voice was cracking all over the place.

“Anytime.”

Jeremy smelled like vanilla and something slightly musty (probably just the dust; it either smelled like strawberries or mustiness, depending on the person, and clearly Jeremy had ended up with the latter) and he was a little bony, but Christine didn’t ever want to let go.

So it was easy to tell that Christine didn’t regret hugging him, not one bit.

Even when she woke up in the middle of the night in a coughing fit.

If it’d been torture listening to the coughing, it was twice that having to experience it. The black dust tasted awful, and when she inhaled it, it made her dizzy and lightheaded. She wanted to lay down and die, or just have a minute of relief, just sixty seconds! 

Clearly, that was _far_ too much to ask for.

She now knew exactly how Jeremy, and Xerxes, and Gigi, and everyone else felt. Sometimes, she felt like she was three seconds from passing out, other times she felt like her head was full of cotton, and if that stupid coughing didn’t stop she was gonna fricking stab someone with one of the test tubes in Chem.

And sleeping? Forget about it. She was constantly either coughing or gasping for air and talking was a good antidote, oddly enough, but coughs would still escape. And she couldn’t talk to herself throughout class, the teachers would rather she just keep coughing. And singing musicals underneath her breath during lunch didn’t work when she was trying to eat.

She wanted to yeet herself into oblivion, as someone of her generation might say.

Play rehearsal was now absolute torture, not being able to say her lines, trying to dance was painful, and there was one scene where she ran outside (onto the stage) in a robe, was stabbed by the Zombie Queen, and was caught by Yolanda the Reaper. But the girl who played Yolanda was out sick because of the coughing, so Jeremy subbed for her.

But she collapsed too soon, being lightheaded and the running making her want to absolutely die, so she hit her head and laid there, unconscious, for a couple seconds.

Mr. Reyes let her lay down the rest of rehearsal, which sounds nice, but was torture in itself.

And Brooke... she actually looked concerned? She was wearing a pink dress and a floral cardigan that day (though with that same freaking hat), and helped Christine lay down, got her water (although drinking water made Christine want to die) and sat with her for a moment.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Brooke muttered under her breath as she studied Christine, who felt exposed and wanted to hide under lots of blankets.

“What?” Cough.

“Nothing. Nothing.” Brooke stood up to leave, and twisted the stone on her ring before exiting.

And oddly enough, the coughing slowly, gradually subsided, and Christine managed to curl up on the carpet in Mr. Reyes’ office semi-comfortably and get a little bit of sleep, before she woke, covered with Jeremy’s blue cardigan.

She blushed and smiled to herself, cough-free, and stood up to catch the late bus.

She just barely caught the bus, hopping in just as the bus driver was shutting the doors.

“Close one there, girlie. Go sit down.”

She proceeded down the aisle, and saw Jeremy, cardigan-less, sitting alone. Christine approached him, with the cardigan.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hi,” Jeremy said, giving her a small smile.

“Here’s your cardigan back, thanks for letting me borrow it.” Christine handed it to him. She almost missed it, the smell had been nice, and it was soft and perfectly worn in. Oh well.

“You can hold onto it, if you want..”

“Sit down, I’m about to go over the speed bumps, missy,” the bus driver called.

Christine quickly sat down, right next to Jeremy. Jeremy looked slightly panicked? Surprised?

“Hi.” Well, Christine, wasn’t that an awesome way to make things awkward? She started to get up, but figured that’s it’s make things even more awkward, so she sat there, putting her hands under her thighs and swinging her legs.

“So,” she began again.

“The coughing’s over, at least.”

“Yeah. No more musty black crap.”

“Did your parents take you to the doctor during it?”

“Nah. Mom’s busy and her boyfriend is only home when she is. And my older sister doesn’t have the insurance information.”

“My dad doesn’t really notice me, so..”

“Oh.”

Score eleventeen hundred thousand for awkwardness. 

“You did great in rehearsal today!” Christine tried.

“Thanks..”

That sure hadn’t worked.

Oh well. Christine took out her copy of the script and began pouring over the act two opener, the scene where Dana is swarmed by flying lollipops.

The play was called the _Odd_ Adventures of Dana Sherman, anyway.

The rest of the bus ride was silent, and there was an awkward scramble when Jeremy almost missed his stop, and Christine had to quickly get up to let him off, and a few stops later, she realised he’d left behind his cardigan in his rush.

She carefully folded it up, and carried it with her into the house, inadir which her mother was stalking down the warpath.

“Leah, hurry it on up! I have to leave in ten minutes!”

That was her greeting.

That, and the Nerf football that flew smack into her face a few seconds later, thrown over the shoulder by her mom.

“This house is an absolute wreck, maybe if you would unpack and clean up from time to time we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“...Hi?” Christine said quietly.

“Leah can’t find the box with my black blazer. Why don’t you help her, because I have to _go_.”

“Fine.”

“Maybe if you’d labelled these goddamn boxes correctly, I would’ve found your oh so special blazer already!” Leah called as Christine approached her.

“Sorry, mom wants a specific black blazer and we can’t find it. Mind going through that stack over there?” Leah pointed, and Christine nodded and started opening up the top box.

“I didn’t label those boxes, you know!”

“It’s your handwriting, Mom, don’t even try!”

“Find my goddamned blazer and stop talking back, Leah!”

“Y’know, maybe if you’d also helped unpack occasionally instead of blowing our money on fancy dates with Mark, we’d already be unpacked! And maybe if you were helping right now we’d find it!”

“Leah, honey, I swear to God I will smack you into next Wednesday.”

“Found it!” Christine cried frantically, holding up a black blazer.

Her mom picked her way through the fray in her heels, and inspected the article of clothing. “I wanted the purple one, but whatever.”

“This whole fucking time you’ve been whining about how badly you wanted the black blazer,” Leah protested.

“I’m going out with Mark, don’t expect us home until two,” her mom called, ignoring her as she stepped out of the house and slammed the door.

Leah sighed and sat down on the floor heavily. “Fricking mom.”

“Guess we’d better unpack a bunch so she doesn’t raise the dead when she gets back,” Christine said slowly, already dividing her homework up into sections. She could wake up early and do homework for the first three classes of the day then...

“No. Let’s get some fucking Chinese food and eat it in front of the TV. I’m sick and tired of Mom pulling this crap and we need a break. No more unpacking for the rest of the day.”

“Leah..”

“Nope. No more.”

“...Chinese food it is, then.” Christine was a little wary of this, but if it made poor Leah happy, then fine.

“Great.”

So they went up to Renee’s room, found a Chinese place, and sent Christine off with a list, in Leah’s beat up pickup truck.

The Chinese place was in a mall, so while the food was being prepared, Christine browsed around. Your everyday mall places, like the boarded up Sears, J.C. Penny, Payless, a few other shoe places, et cetera et cetera.

Christine ducked into a Hot Topic (don’t judge her, they had good overpriced Disney graphic tees) and was flipping through one of those circular racks when she saw Brooke tucked inside it, hat off, hugging her knees and chanting something underneath there. Also, was her ring glowing? And were those... burns on her face? Big, angry, red burns, big, terrifying lines striking her face like lightning.

“Brooke?”

Brooke unleashed an otherworldly shriek and cupped a hand over her ring. “Christine, I don’t wanna talk right now, go.”

“What the frick are you doing? Are you hurt?!”

Brooke sighed. “My mom works here, I’m waiting for her to finish her shift. Go away.”

“No. Not if you’re hurt.”

Christine got down on her knees and started to crawl down into the centre of the rack, and Brooke scrambled out from under there like her life depended on it.

“Brooke?”

“Gotta go to the bathroom!” She shouted, skittering out and tugging her hat back on as she ran.

Other people in the store were staring, and Christine felt somewhat exposed, so she took that as her cue to leave. The pager from the Chinese place was buzzing in her purse anyway.

And Christine couldn’t shake the sense that she’d seen something she shouldn’t have for the rest of the day.


	4. act four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light blood/violence tw for this one (the blood is only in the last paragraph of the chapter, just skip that and you should be gucci)

The next morning, Christine went downstairs, fully dressed and ready to start the coffee maker and do her last bit of homework, to find her mother, naked and asleep on the couch, with Mark also naked, on the floor next to the couch.

She threw a towel over each of them for Renee’s sake, and tried to do her homework, but not without a fair amount of distraction by the fact that her mom and her boyfriend were naked, and the guy who might one day be her dad also the floor. On the floor, naked, passed out.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, and who could blame her?

She wanted to smack her mom so, so badly, because goddamnit Renee was only fourteen. And she was only sixteen! And Leah... Leah was twenty-two, she could handle this, but... ugh.

Her skin crawled, and to combat that, she put Jeremy’s cardigan on, before pulling on her boots, putting her coffee in a thermos, and slamming the door as she left, entirely too early, but she couldn’t freaking focus in that room.  

She took a walk down the road a couple blocks to clear her head, eventually stopping to sit down at a random bus stop and do her homework in the chill early fall air.

The kids who actually lived around here and used this stop gave her weird looks when they came out, and Christine silently responded by getting up and sitting back down on the sidewalk next to the bench, silently continuing to do her homework.

She got on the bus, gave Jeremy a weak smile and started to hand him the cardigan, but he gestured for her to sit down next to him, and she did.

“Don’t take it off. You look cold.”

Christine nodded silently and sat staring off into space, with no want or need to do more of her homework.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.”

Oh shoot, was she crying? Christine felt at her cold cheeks and found warm tears, which she quickly wiped away.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“...Mom’s passed out naked in the living room with her boyfriend.”

“That’s.. that’s awful. Has... has she done it before?”

“No. But... god, I expect a tiny bit of maturity from my mother, y’know?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“She’s busy a lot, and when she isn’t, she complains. Complains that my sister isn’t unpacking the house quickly enough even though she has a full time job too, complains when we can’t find her stuff because it’s still packed, blows money she doesn’t have on fancy dates for her and the boyfriend, so on and so forth.”

“Jesus. That sounds... really shitty.”

“Language.” Jeremy looked pained. “Sorry. And... thanks for actually listening.”

“I know what sh- crappy moms are like.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for awhile, but a more comfortable silence than yesterday’s silence, thank goodness.

“You can keep my cardigan ‘till the end of the day, if you want..”

“It’s ok, you can have it back.”

“You didn’t bring a jacket, it’s cold outside. And I brought a different one from home.” Indeed, he was wearing a different cardigan, this one not knit and green rather than blue. But it looked soft, anyway.

“...Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

* * *

 

They didn’t have rehearsal that day, Christine was tired from having stayed up late to do her homework after watching too many episodes of Gilmore Girls with Leah and Renee, and since nobody got in trouble for sleeping in Mr. Reyes’ class, she folded her arms onto the table, rested her head down, and got a decent forty five minutes of sleep before she woke up during one of Mr. Reyes’ tangents, but not because of the tangent.

While she slept, she dreamed about Brooke, in all white, blonde hair streaming around her, and she was smiling, even though her skin was still so pale it was hard to tell where the Sailor Moon-worthy dress ended and her arms began.

Her lips were red, dark red, and a bit of the lipstick had gotten on the skin around her mouth.

And then Brooke lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her aside as Gigi, in her Zombie Queen costume, walked by.

“They’re coming for you. You need to be careful,” Brooke said frantically.

And then she woke up.

Brooke was watching her from her seat across the way, today wearing a long black cloak, a ruffled black and red dress, and fishnets with her usual combat boots. That stupid black hat also made an appearance, along with an extra thick veil, so Christine couldn’t tell whether or not the burns from yesterday were still there. 

But they would be, of course, something like that wouldn’t just disappear overnight, so why were her worries not silenced by that thought?

She tried to forget about it, but she simply couldn’t. The burns would be there. The burns would be there. She should be more concerned about how she got the burns, and not whether or not they were there, because they would be.

But they weren’t, because a scarily tall senior pointed at Brooke as she and her were on their way to second period, mocked her for being goth, and then took off her hat.

Brooke yelped and threw the end of the cloak over her head as she collapsed into a ball on the floor. The boy laughed and didn’t think too far into it as she threw her back her hat, but Christine did.

She’d seen this girl inside a circular rack at Hot Topic, so seeing her yelp and react so strongly to something that didn’t seem to need that reaction, Christine rushed over to her, after saving the hat from being trampled by a sea of freshmen.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, putting a comforting hand on Brooke’s back.

“Hat..?” Brooke asked from under the cloak.

Christine silently handed her the hat, and Brooke put it on under there before resurfacing, and as she adjusted her veil, Christine saw fresh burns forming on her face. Forming! And they definitely weren’t the ones from yesterday or just a trick of the light, she was positive.

“Brooke, your face!”

“I... oh. Christine... it’s nothing.”

“No, it isn’t, you’ve gotta go to the nurse, holy cow!”

“Christine. It’s my makeup. Why do you think I’m wearing such a heavy veil?”

“Who’d do makeup like that?”

“I’m going to a convention later, I won’t have time to do my makeup for a cosplay I’m doing.”

“...Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Never better, Christine. Oh, shit, we’re gonna miss class. See you in micro ec!”

Never had Christine been more sure someone was lying in her life. Never.

This made no sense, though. The burns forming on her face as she spoke. And it’s not like the guy had hit her on the head with a hot iron!

Christine tried to talk to her again, but Brooke either avoided her or just hid out somewhere until Microeconomics, and when there, she was quiet and didn’t raise her hand, or speak to Christine after class.

Christine was crossing the street between the school building and the parking lot, having decided to walk home, despite it being three miles away. She needed time to think.

Suddenly, she felt two hands on her back, and she was falling, her chin struck the pavement hard, and Christine felt warm blood begin to stream from it.


	5. act five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unprecedented things occur and secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? forgetting to post my pre-written chapters every thursday? it’s more likely than you think.

“Christine, look out!”

Shimmering hands picked her up and fluttering, feathered wings flapped frantically, aiding her in her quest to right herself, barely in time to dodge the oncoming car.

She looked around wildly. Nobody else was there but Brooke, clutching her umbrella with both hands as she stared at Christine.

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Did you shove me?! What the flip, Brooke!”

“I didn’t shove you- Christine, look at yourself!”

Christine realised the sensations on her back, and wind whipping through-

She had wings. Giant, grey-feathered wings, flapping gently, keeping her at a gentle hover a few inches above the ground. She felt at her chin frantically- it was smooth, without any traces of blood.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god Brooke, what’s happening to me?!”

“Just set yourself down and fold your wings, Christine.”

“How... how do I do that?”

“Just relax, you control your wings like you control your arms.”

Christine experimentally dipped one wing down, and then was able to silently force her feet back onto the ground, before trying and failing to fold them a few times, and then looked at Brooke helplessly.

“I can’t touch the wings of a Valkyrie.”

“A what?”

“Keep trying, nobody else without any magic will be able to see them unless you want them to see you.”

Finally, after what felt like hours of trying, just standing there in the middle of the fire lane, Christine successfully folded down her wings, and they glittered away into her back.

Brooke finally approached her, still carefully clinging to her umbrella. “Valkyrie wings belonging to someone with only partial Valkyrie blood only appear on their own in a time of grave danger.”

“You’d better know what’s going on with me. And I’m still upset because you shoved me.”

“I didn’t shove you.”

“Then who did?”

“They did.”

“Who’s they? Who’s they, what’s going on, why the _fuck_ do I have flipping wings?!”

“We need to go to Hot Topic.”

* * *

 

“Why are we here?” Christine asked as they entered the Hot Topic. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone from the day before inside there today, and she internally sighed with relief. “And why did I let you bring me here?”

“Because you’re scared and you want answers.” Brooke dropped to her knees and crawled into the circular rack. “And I can give them to you. Come inside.”

Inside, it was not a simple rack with clothes obscuring them from view. No, it was a dark, circular room, bigger on the inside than on the outside, and the hole at the top of the rack that should’ve let light in was missing. There were no rack pieces at all, mich less any visible shirts.

She peeked out again. There was the Hot Topic, same as always, and if she looked up, she saw shirts and the rest of the rack.

She looked back in, and it was the circular room.

“Hot Topic is a haven for all people who are strange, the strangelings, but also especially vampires.”

“I’m a vampire?”

“No. I am.”

Well... shoot. She was a Valkyrie or whatever and Brooke was a flipping vampire?!

“And what’s next, Mr. Reyes is a ghoulish mermaid who can shapeshift into a bowl of spaghetti?”

Brooke giggled as she took off her hat, revealing the burns she gained in the hallway. Yeah, it made sense she was a vampire, why else would her face be all like that?

“No, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“I’m kidding. He’s human. So is the rest of the cast... to the best of my knowledge.”

“Fantastic.”

“Look, I didn’t know you were a Valkyrie until you picked yourself up and got away from that car. So who knows, maybe Garrett is a demigod or something.”

“Okay. I just... this is awfully sudden. Why am I only finding out now? And what does it mean?”

“Well, like I said, clearly you only have a little bit of Valkyrie blood, enough to get you wings, but not enough for you to be born with them visible. If you were full blooded, forget about being able to put them away like that.”

“Okay. So, I have wings... what else?”

“Healing powers. You singlehandedly saved everyone from the... black plauge.”

“You twisted your ring when you left that day, that didn’t mean anything?”

“No, that’s just something I do when I’m nervous. That ring is what keeps me from completely dying when I’m exposed to too much light. It’s less powerful in the teenage years.”

“I see.”

“An illness you get, you quickly make yourself immune, and people around you who have it will be cured, too. You’re less likely to get sick in the first place, the only reason you got the coughing crap is because it was too strong.”

“Is one of your vampire powers causing people to cough up black shit for days on end?”

“If I feel threatened, especially if I’m exposed to too much light, touching me will give you a bit of... how do I explain it... it’s like when an octopus is scared, it squirts black stuff. That’s what I do, except it’s invisible until you’re coughing.”

“Huh.”

“I felt really scared in the moment, which is why it spread in the first place, and why it didn’t stop after a few hours. With more people infected, it grew in power, and you catching it is what saved everyone else.”

“Am I able to just... make my wings come out as I please?”

“Yeah, but it’ll take some getting used to. I don’t have personal experience, but I imagine growing two new limbs will take time to get used to.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Christine paused to try and process, but she needed to know more about... all this. “Did the driver of the car see me..?”

“No. You ever read a Percy Jackson book?”

“A couple, why?”

“Remember the part about ‘the mist’ that hides demigod powers from mortals?”

“Vaguely. Is that a real thing?”

“Yep. Rick Riordan is a demigod.”

“Oh... wonderful. Just wonderful.”

“If you’re especially scared or, shall we say, ‘in the moment’ fighting something, adrenaline pumping, the mist- or, well, we call it the veil in real life- it can part and show you in your true form, but-!” She rushed, silencing Christine, who’d opened her mouth to say something- “You probably won’t ever fight anything big or scary enough for that to happen. And you can show your wings on purpose, but really, why would you?”

“That makes sense. So I can practice flying in my backyard and nobody would think twice?”

“Exactly. Actually, you should, because if you figure out flying, you can just fly everywhere, everyone will think you’re walking.”

“Speaking of which, how come _you_ can see my wings?”

“Because I’m what one may call a ‘mystical creature.’ Or, the more popular term, ‘strangeling.’ So are you.”

“Can other people see you?”

“I have a dark form, nobody can see me like that if they’re human, period. Otherwise, vampire-ness is human enough that everyone sees me and my weird hat plain as day.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“For real, though.”

“No, seriously, I’m seventeen. I got turned last year.”

“So you’re new-ish to this, too.”

“I’ve versed myself in magical species, I know what I’m doing. Sorta.”

Christine laughed, semi-sarcastically. “I figure out I’m a Valkyrie and I get the least experienced vampire to teach me about myself.”

“Sorry.”

Christine dropped her smile. “I was kidding, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“So... do I have to ferry dead people across a rainbow bridge?”

“Nah. Only full Valkyries can do that, you wouldn’t be able to enter Asgard. Basically, you get the wings and some of the healing powers, but no other fun benefits.”

“Have you been?”

“Vampires can’t go up there, either. The whole system is... complicated, but know that Hot Topic is one safe haven where all non-human creatures can enter.”

“That makes sense, Hot Topic being a safe place for vampires.”

“Of course, that’s what you fixate on.”

“Why not?”

“We can laugh about that later. Christine, you’re still in a whole lot of danger.”

 


End file.
